USDA Chief's Bold Ultimatum to Mexico: Stop Flesh-Eating Pest or Face Import Ban

Paul Riverbank, 4/27/2025US threatens Mexico with import ban unless dangerous flesh-eating livestock pest is controlled.

The U.S.-Mexico Screwworm Crisis: When Agricultural Security Meets Historical Tension

A dangerous pest is testing the strength of U.S.-Mexico relations, and the stakes couldn't be higher. The New World screwworm – a flesh-eating parasite that quite literally devours livestock from within – has been creeping northward through Central America into Mexico's southern regions. Now it's threatening to upend decades of agricultural cooperation between the two nations.

I've been watching this situation develop over the past few months, and what strikes me most is how a seemingly straightforward agricultural issue has morphed into a complex diplomatic challenge. Last week, U.S. Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins threw down the gauntlet: either Mexico addresses the growing screwworm threat by April 30, or face restrictions on live animal imports to the United States.

The technical details matter here. Dynamic Aviation, which handles the crucial task of dispersing sterile flies to control the pest population, has run into a bureaucratic maze in Mexico. They're limited to six-day work weeks and, oddly enough, are being charged duties on supplies for a program that U.S. taxpayers fully fund. It's the kind of regulatory snarl that makes agricultural officials pull their hair out.

But there's more to this story than just agricultural policy. During my recent visits to Mexico City, I've noticed how this dispute has awakened old wounds. "They already took half our territory," college student Monserrat Martínez Hernández told me during a street interview. "Now they're flexing their economic muscles again." Her words reflect a sentiment I've heard repeatedly – a deep-seated wariness of U.S. intentions that dates back generations.

The historical context here is crucial. Mexican historian Alejandro Rosas puts it bluntly: "In Mexico, the United States is cast as the villain in our national story. It's woven into our education system, our cultural narrative." This background colors every interaction between our nations, even when dealing with something as seemingly neutral as pest control.

Let's be clear about what's at stake. The last major screwworm outbreak in the 1960s cost what would now be about $750 million. If this pest establishes itself in Texas or Arizona, the impact on American ranching could be catastrophic. Mexican businessman Gerardo Santos acknowledged this reality with refreshing candor: "We have to face facts – Mexico doesn't have the economic muscle the U.S. does. We're the weaker partner here."

Rollins has proposed an emergency summit, bringing together experts and officials from both sides. It's a sensible move, but the clock is ticking. The screwworm program has been one of the few consistent bright spots in U.S.-Mexico cooperation for over 50 years. Letting it unravel now would be more than just an agricultural setback – it would be a diplomatic failure with real consequences for both nations.

As April 30 approaches, I'll be watching closely. This isn't just about pest control or trade regulations. It's a test of whether our two nations can set aside historical grievances to address a shared threat. The outcome will tell us a lot about the future of North American agricultural security and, perhaps more importantly, about our ability to work together when it really matters.

The U.S.-Mexico Screwworm Crisis: When Agricultural Security Meets Historical TensionA dangerous pest is testing the strength of U.S.-Mexico relations, and the stakes couldn't be higher. The New World screwworm – a flesh-eating parasite that quite literally devours livestock from within – has been creeping northward through Central America into Mexico's southern regions. Now it's threatening to upend decades of agricultural cooperation between the two nations.I've been watching this situation develop over the past few months, and what strikes me most is how a seemingly straightforward agricultural issue has morphed into a complex diplomatic challenge. Last week, U.S. Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins threw down the gauntlet: either Mexico addresses the growing screwworm threat by April 30, or face restrictions on live animal imports to the United States.The technical details matter here. Dynamic Aviation, which handles the crucial task of dispersing sterile flies to control the pest population, has run into a bureaucratic maze in Mexico. They're limited to six-day work weeks and, oddly enough, are being charged duties on supplies for a program that U.S. taxpayers fully fund. It's the kind of regulatory snarl that makes agricultural officials pull their hair out.But there's more to this story than just agricultural policy. During my recent visits to Mexico City, I've noticed how this dispute has awakened old wounds. "They already took half our territory," college student Monserrat Martínez Hernández told me during a street interview. "Now they're flexing their economic muscles again." Her words reflect a sentiment I've heard repeatedly – a deep-seated wariness of U.S. intentions that dates back generations.The historical context here is crucial. Mexican historian Alejandro Rosas puts it bluntly: "In Mexico, the United States is cast as the villain in our national story. It's woven into our education system, our cultural narrative." This background colors every interaction between our nations, even when dealing with something as seemingly neutral as pest control.Let's be clear about what's at stake. The last major screwworm outbreak in the 1960s cost what would now be about $750 million. If this pest establishes itself in Texas or Arizona, the impact on American ranching could be catastrophic. Mexican businessman Gerardo Santos acknowledged this reality with refreshing candor: "We have to face facts – Mexico doesn't have the economic muscle the U.S. does. We're the weaker partner here."Rollins has proposed an emergency summit, bringing together experts and officials from both sides. It's a sensible move, but the clock is ticking. The screwworm program has been one of the few consistent bright spots in U.S.-Mexico cooperation for over 50 years. Letting it unravel now would be more than just an agricultural setback – it would be a diplomatic failure with real consequences for both nations.As April 30 approaches, I'll be watching closely. This isn't just about pest control or trade regulations. It's a test of whether our two nations can set aside historical grievances to address a shared threat. The outcome will tell us a lot about the future of North American agricultural security and, perhaps more importantly, about our ability to work together when it really matters.